


Once More, With Feeling

by CodaAtTheEnd



Series: On The Origin of Egos [4]
Category: A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Mark Fischbach Egos, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodaAtTheEnd/pseuds/CodaAtTheEnd
Summary: You take a box. It all goes downhill from there.
Series: On The Origin of Egos [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1442656
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Once More, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> This is A Heist With Markiplier. GO WATCH IT YOU FOOLS!!! If you haven't watched it, you don't deserve to be here.

You sneak down a museum corridor. Your partner cartwheels around while you beguile a dog. You enter the vault. He takes the box. Reality wobbles and warps. The alarm rings. He offers a choice. Go in the sewer all sneaky like, or go out with guns blazing. You choose.

He complains, as he often does. The sewer smells of rotting garbage and defecation. It is stealthy, but not pleasant. The guards follow. You hide. Mark complains more. A guard walks down the dark tunnel, screams, then stops. Another choice. The light tunnel, probably leading to the surface, or the dark death murder tunnel. You choose.

He complains more, but acquiesces as you drag him down the dark tunnel. _<strike>If someone asked, you couldn't tell them why you picked it.</strike>_ At the first opportunity, he wants to split up. Hasn't he seen horror movies? Haven't you? Never split up. Ever. You choose, though it's not much of a choice.

He's upset now. He wants to be _independent_ now. He wants to be _free_ of you now. So annoying. Doesn't he remember your years of friendship? _<strike>Do you? </strike>_Another chance to split up. You choose. It's harder this time.

He's a complainer to the end. You walk together, dragging him forward as he stares longingly towards the split path. You reach a tunnel that proclaims its unsafety. He is delighted. You are tired of reining him in. You choose. It's so easy this time. 

He screams and disappears. _<strike>You are overjoyed.</strike>_ You turn away and walk down a long hallway full of paintings with scratched out eyes. They seem almost familiar. A chef, a butler, a detective, a colonel with a pink mustache... _<strike>He killed you he killed you he killed you why don't you remember you fool</strike>_ and one more painting, its eyes intact. It is of a man in a red robe. He almost looks like your friend Mark Iplier, the one you sacrificed to get here. Your phone keeps buzzing, an unknown number sending cryptic messages. And then the voice. The painting crumbles, and a man in a white suit flickers into view. He breaks apart into a red and blue blur before reforming. _<strike>He was wearing black before.</strike>_ He speaks of codes, of truth, of answers. 

You want him to stop talking. You want to ask him a question, but you can't. Maybe it's because he knows so much, but you've never felt more worthless than this moment, watching a shattered man in a white suit. He speaks of things you do not understand. He reminisces about things you do not remember. You need answers. You need- The world zooms out in an infinite fractal and disappears.

DO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN? Yes/<strike>No</strike>

* * *

You sneak down a museum corridor. _<strike>Haven't you done this before? </strike>_Your partner masquerades as a plant while you beguile a guard. You enter the vault. He takes the box. Reality stutters and shakes. The alarm rings. He offers a choice. Go in the sewer all sneaky like, or go out with guns blazing. You choose.

He laughs gleefully. You exit the vault, guns blazing. He throws the grenade. It explodes, igniting the vault. You sneak out as the guards rush into the vault. You run into a room filled with gunpowder. The guards follow behind, guns blazing. You are outside, waiting for the powder to blow. Nothing happens. You find vehicles, a helicopter and a car. You choose. 

If you're going to pander to him, you're going to pander to him. You walk to the helicopter. _<strike>You don't know how to fly it, idiot.</strike>_ It's almost fun. The panel is full of switches that you don't know how to use. He is mad at you for not knowing how to fly a helicopter. _<strike>You don't even know who YOU are and he expects you to know how to FLY?</strike>_ You end up in prison. Two methods for escape. Befriend the guards or rally the prisoners. You choose.

Mark gets punched through a wall. You listen to a delightful musical. _<strike>You weren't in this room before.</strike>_ He asks if you want to be free. You choose.

Life in prison isn't so bad. Yancy shows you the ropes. You fit right in. Of course, parole is coming up, but Yancy has it covered. One quick stab, and you're guaranteed a permanent stay here at Happy Trails Penitentiary.

One day, you ask about his tattoos, the box, the words, and the number tree.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, confused. "Youse crazy! Look!"

He holds out his arm. You look again. The tattoo is gone, except for the number 10.

"As for the rest, I don't know really. Let me think." He ribs his chin thoughtfully before suddenly grabbing you by the shoulders in anger. "Look what youse done! Youse got me thinking about the _past_. The past ain't something to be trifled with."

You apologize, but he's twitchy for the rest of the day.

DO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN? Yes/<strike>No</strike>

* * *

You sneak down a museum corridor. You are hit by a wave of déjà vu. Your partner flops on the floor while you sneak around. You enter the vault. He takes the box. Reality flickers and flounders. The alarm rings. He offers a choice. Go in the sewer all sneaky like, or go out with guns blazing. You choose.

You drag him down the sewer. His complaints are familiar, almost as if you could recite them with him. He stains his clothing and asks you for a towel. You turn, but when you turn back, he's wearing a suit. _<strike>A familiar white suit.</strike>_ A guard screams and dies. _<strike>Can you see behind the curtain?</strike>_ Light or dark. You choose.

Somehow, you are in the middle of the ocean. _<strike>Why does he look different?</strike>_ You could wait for rescue, or row home. You choose.

He starts rowing when a storm appears out of nowhere. You wash up on an island, your vision blurry. You are dizzy, and your ears are ringing. Make a sign or find shelter. You choose.

You find a cave almost immediately. It looks nice. Spacious, deep, dry. Then a filthy bearded lunatic appears wielding a large knife. He calls you "friendo" and and welcomes you to his cave. He offers you meat, though the pile of bones outside his cave is a little disconcerting. He seems to be suffering from mild OCD and cannibalism. _<strike>But that's just a theory. A GAME theory. Thanks for watching.</strike>_ His words imply he's a cannibal. Go in, or run. You choose.

No harm in going in. Besides, you have the box as Plan B. He apologizes for the mess and turns on the lights. Mark seems to have abandoned his suspicion and now trusts the hermit with all the idiocy he can muster. Hermit(yes that's his name now) rambles about friendship as he leads you to the table. He claims food will come once someone sits in the "special dining throne". You or Mark. Who will be eaten? You choose. _<strike>How much do you trust them? Mark to save you, Hermit not to eat you.</strike>_

You sit in the chair, all doubt forgotten. He straps you in and places a dining hood over your head. He tells you to think of your dream food. Nothing comes to mind. _<strike>What does food taste like?</strike>_ He laughs maniacally and tells Mark to close his eyes. Mark, ever the idiot, obliges. He asks you to smell the food. Three... two... one... Your hood is pulled off to reveal a feast. 

Life is good in the cave. Every day, you and Mark are treated to a feast of meat. You never find out where Hermit gets the meat from, but does it really matter? _<strike>Cannibalism isn't that bad.</strike>_

On one of the rare occasions where Mark is out of the room, Hermit asks you a question.

"Have you ever heard of servitors, friendo?"

You shake your head. It's an unfamiliar term.

He frowns. "You know, servitors! Figments! Extras! The people who exist to fill up other people's stories!" He breaks off into maniacal laughter, but it's more crazed than usual. 

He boops you on the nose with his knife. "Some of them don't have names, or voices, or even faces!" _<strike>Sound familiar?</strike>_

You think about your name. _("First name Your, last name Name, my friend!" "One Mark-eye-plier and a Your Na-?")_ You think about your voice. Or rather, your lack of one. You think about your face. _(A federal marshal congratulates you. He pulls off your mask and holds up a mirror. You are Wade. A federal marshal congratulates you. He pulls off your mask and holds up a mirror. You are Bob. You peer into the mirror hesitantly. A dog peers back. Your hand moves without your permission and takes hold of Damien's cane. The world flashes red and blue. You look into the mirror and it's_ not your face_.)_ It never seemed odd before. But now...

Then Mark comes in with a bottle of champagne to commemorate the 1-year anniversary of your arrival, and your conversation is washed away by a pleasant haze of alcohol. The night becomes scattered disjointed fragments of memory, lost to the ethanol. The only memory of the night is Hermit taking you by the shoulders and saying drunkenly, "If you see Rosanna Pansino, short little sweetheart, great baker, tell her MatPat said hi."

* * *

You sneak down a museum corridor. You're so beyond déjà vu. Your partner smiles and laughs as you try and remember the plan that never existed. Mark takes the box. Reality trembles and twitches. The alarm rings. You almost want to just walk out, no guns or sewers, but you know you can't. There are only 2 choices after all. You choose. 

The sewer is strange and smelly, and you aren't in the mood. He smiles. You don't. It all plays again, a movie you are helpless to stop. Mindless entertainment meant to appease you. It's not working. Helicopter. Car. You choose.

He confesses his inability to fly a helicopter. You get in the car. This movie is new. It's interesting. He doesn't complain for once. Maybe you could be happy here, in this endless loop of choices that mean nothing. Or maybe not. The sirens sound, and Mark loses the police by turning right. You see two people appear in a flash of blue light. When you point this out to Mark, they disappear. You go to sleep. You wake up to the sound of frying, though there's no stove. There was nothing. <strike>_Did he sleep? You have to sleep!_</strike> The car engine is broken. You could fix it or walk to base. You choose.

Mark pops the hood and frowns nervously. You come over, and it explodes. Now you're in a cave. The box falls open to reveal a monkey statue. A boulder comes from the right and Mark runs. A man with a hat and a whip appears. He offers to take you on as an assistant. You choose. 

Life needs a bit of madness after all. He gives you the statue and warns you not to look into its eyes. You do anyway. He tells you his name is Illinois. He feels like an Indiana Jones copy. He tells you he's single but married to the job. The traps miss if you go at a casual walk. You reach a pedestal, and he tells you to put the statue there. Monkeys scream in your ears. You choose. 

You don't like the statue. It takes away control. You hand it to him like a hot potato. He stares into its eyes and places it on the pedestal. The world glows white as you are transported to monkey heaven. They give you a banana. You return. He has a rock. He gives it to you and leaves. The rock crumbles into a gemstone. Your banana is made of gold. _<strike>Since when did people have 3 hands?</strike>_ Fair trade.

DO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN? Yes/<strike>No</strike>

* * *

You sneak down a museum corridor. You choose. You choose. You choose. You choose. An interview, _"Open the box!"_, a pirate, a meme long since dead, zombie friends, Bubba dead, Wubba dead, the fairy, aliens, eaten by sharks, a scientist dying as you turn feral, orbital strike, back to the beginning to take another one, back to the beginning to take a nap...

You can see the loop now. The beginning, a constant. Then a multiverse of choices. It's always two. Left or right. _<strike>Bang!</strike>_ Sneaky or guns blazing. <strike>_Bang!_</strike> Split up or don't. <strike>_Crunch!_</strike> Why you? Why can't Mark choose? Why does it have to be you? _<strike>The illusion of choice is necessary to blind one to the truth. Remember.</strike>_ Once more, with feeling. 

You sneak down a museum corridor. This scene has played so many times. <strike>_31, to be exact._</strike> One last ending to find. You know where it is. You don't need the scenes to play. 

You meet the scientist again. She's just as sweet as you remember. You tell her it's alright. You've seen what happens when you refuse. You show her your bite. She apologizes. Mark is furious. It would be sweet if he hadn't caused your death. He lunges in the way of the blast. He tells you to take the box and run. She reminds him that you can't. The bite is rotting already. She asks about the box. You show it to her. It's the anomaly. As it's blasted to pieces, you see the endings unravel, the wave-function collapsing into one, single outcome. The best one.

* * *

"That's a nice museum," Mark says as he stands outside. "It's big. It's colorful. Why are we here?"

A guard comes up. You tense reflexively, but he just says, "Sorry, museum's closed right now. So you have to move along."

The scene plays out. They compare grappling guns. No grappling after nine! The map is blank now. 

"Um... yeah. Uh... you, uh, want to go on that date?"

Here we go again. 

DO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN? <strike>Yes</strike>/No

**Author's Note:**

> That was that. Did you like it? I seem to be only writing non-linear stories nowadays. Maybe I have a problem.


End file.
